Flogged!
by x Varda x
Summary: Rodney McKay is sold to the highest bidder. Hurt/comfort as usual for poor Rodney, with added McKeller to finish it all off.


**Disclaimer **– I don't own it, although I might put in a bid for Rodney…  
**Summary** - Rodney McKay is sold to the highest bidder. Hurt/comfort as usual for poor Rodney with added McKeller to finish it all off.  
**Rating** – T  
**Setting** – Late Season 5

**_Flogged!_**

Rodney staggered as he was pulled along. He had no idea where he was or where the rest of his team were. He vaguely remembered being ambushed after investigating a distress call from a village claiming to be under siege by the Wraith. They had specifically requested medical aid, so, much to Rodney's delight, Jennifer had accompanied them.

Sweaty unclean men now surrounded him and he grimaced in disgust at the human stench and sticky grime which also coated his bare skin. He knew he was probably contributing to the delightful aroma in the cramped cell he had woken up in. His naked feet were nearly ankle deep in an unspeakable slimy substance that he could not see due to the pleasant, ultra-close proximity of his bunk mates. He dreaded to think what kind of diseases he had already contracted and breathed through his mouth to minimise the smell. But the heady mix still permeated his nostrils and registered in revulsion.

He was jostled and something, probably a stray elbow, hit him in the side. He cried, "Hey, I bruise easily!"

There was nasty laughter and Rodney glared at the scruffy man nearby who was eyeing him dangerously with his hands bunched into tight fists.

An old man suddenly took hold of Rodney's upper arm and gave him a gummy grin. He eyed Rodney's teeth jealously as he mumbled thickly, "I wouldn't if I were you, or you'll lose all those pretty white stubs of yours and get stuck here forever. Like me."

Rodney furrowed his brow and was about to ask the man's name when there was another sharp tug on the ropes attached to his wrists. This one threatened to take him down to his knees, and in any other scenario he would have faceplanted on the cold, hard floor underneath all the slop. But in this case, he was merely pulled through the tightly packed crowd until he was inside a small holding pen just outside the cell.

A wall slid down behind him and he was suddenly on his own. There was a hole in the wall in front of him. The ropes went through it and he did not know where they went after that, nor who or what was controlling his movement.

He looked around and felt fear building up. He shouted up at the ceiling, "I get claustrophobic. I could have a panic attack! I demand to speak to whoever's in charge here!" His voice squeaked at the end as he struggled to control his nerves in the tight space. His hands shook and he clasped them in front of himself to hide his nudity and shame.

"Where am I? What's going on? And why am I naked?"

No-one answered him and the ceiling abruptly turned into a freezing cold waterfall as a torrent suddenly fell on him. He screwed his eyes tightly closed as he screamed and shuddered under the icy dousing. He was fairly sure he had flailed quite severely and banged himself against the hard walls, but he had been instantly numbed by the cold.

He continued to tremble as the jets stopped and the yank on his wrists drew him onwards. His teeth chattered together and his weak voice drifted out of his mouth as he gushed speech in his fear, "Not that that wash wasn't nice and everything… but you have no right to hold me here. I'm an important man and I have lots of very important things to do. You probably wouldn't understand though, not a species with the worst personal hygiene and living quarters I've ever seen…"

A loud voice boomed all around Rodney and he flinched in shock. "Cattle will be silent during processing!"

Rodney frowned in anger, "Cattle? What am I now? A caged animal? Wow, the standards in the Pegasus Galaxy have really slipped. Where have I been all this time?"

The wall in front and behind him seemed to be mechanical and he knew that if he fell, he would probably just be dragged along the floor. At least he was cleaner after the hose down, but he was still naked and very cold.

He went as close to the front wall as possible and fumbled with his quaking hands to try and find purchase around the edge and pry something loose, but his trembling fingers could not find anything.

He sighed sadly and returned his arms to shield as much of himself as he could from his unseen captors. He resisted the tugging of the immovable bands around his wrists as hard as possible to keep his hands held between his legs, so that he did not give anything or anyone watching a glimpse, or more likely, an eyeful, of something rather personal.

He gritted his teeth and tilted his head back at the ceiling again. "What are you? Wraith? And what am I being processed for?" His mind was suddenly filled with images of small tins with paper 'Minced McKay' labels wrapped around them.

He widened his eyes and opened his mouth in fright and cried desperately, "What about the others? What've you done to the rest of my team? There was a guy with ridiculous hair, a caveman and Xena, the warrior woman."

"Silence! Or you will be sent to holding pen 7 at the end of the row!"

Rodney did not like the sound of that and squeaked in fright. He started pulling on the restraints, but his struggling was in vain and he exposed himself. He hung his head down in humiliation and held his tongue for as long as he could to avoid the shouting voice. He lasted only about the same time it took him to draw in another breath.

"I need to get back to At… I mean, _home_, as I've left a lot of experiments running and I don't think Zelenka or any of the others will be able to monitor them properly without destroying the whole city! There's this one that's going on and even the slightest variance in the program could ruin the whole thing!" He nodded his head sharply, "Bang! Just like that! One moment there's a small spinning perpetual motion disc… Well at least that's what we're hoping it is… And the next moment, the little thing's run right off its dial and cut the whole city into tiny, perfectly shaped cubes of metal, marine and scientist, and sliced through all the power conduits! And then the tenacious spinner just keeps on going and going on and on and on…"

"Quiet!"

There was a savage pull on the ropes and Rodney was yanked forwards and slammed into the moving wall ahead of him. He was winded and dazed and his feet faltered under him as he struggled to keep his balance. Being dragged along the floor was at the bottom of the very short list of things he wanted to do today.

_Getting the hell out of here_, was really the only one that he cared about, even above the, _find food_, task.

"Ouch!" He breathed as he rubbed at his sore head. At least he was a little cleaner and the smell had nearly gone now that he was no longer crammed into a small area with so many other bodies. His glistening, pale skin was still damp from the cold soaking, and unsightly and grubby. He scowled in disgust as he added; _find a shower, with soap_, to his wish list.

The wall in front of him suddenly lifted up and he was blinded by a bright light as his feet moved from slapping on slippery concrete to padding through soft, yellow sand.

He decided to narrow his eyes, rather than shield them from the harsh glare with his hands, as that would involve lifting them away from his private place. He was still being pulled along, but the motion seemed more fitful and fluid than it had been a moment ago.

The booming voice set his teeth rattling as it bellowed above him, "Ladies, gentlemen and the unspecified, I present, Lot 54. Human male. Approximately forty cycles. Completely undamaged. Strong legs and voice. Ideal for any purpose. Bidding starts at two Tarlaks."

Rodney groaned and hazarded opening his eyes to see what he had got himself into this time.

* * *

The Bidder watched the scene in front of her from the vantage point she had over the sandy circular arena. Her clients were very demanding and knew exactly what they wanted already. She fingered the pouch in her pocket and felt the heavy weight of the coins nestling against her thigh, reassuring her that they were still there.

She glanced around at her fellow bidders and noticed that even the Wraith had not given the squalid pit in this lower human society a miss. She found it strange that they had not abandoned all pretences and feasted upon the occupants of the hall, but they were entitled to have their fun with whatever items they purchased as much as she was.

She had learnt earlier that they were mostly outcasts from Hives destroyed by the Replicators while they had been trapped in darts outside their ships. They could never be accepted into other Hives, so instead came to places such as these to purchase their food. Almost like visiting the local meat market.

It disgusted her at the same time as hardening her resolve to go away with her prize today, no matter what the cost.

She drew up the covering over her face to make sure it was still just her eyes on display. She had not been stopped from going inside, but her weapon had been taken away.

Guards stood all around the crowded and noisy hall. _They_ had guns. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves. She was safe. The guards would not allow the Wraith to attack the bidders. Anyway, she could always call her clients…

No. She could do this on her own. She needed to.

She would prove that she could stand her ground in this situation and not break and run away when things got out of hand.

The latest lot, item 53, was sold and dragged away through what she now recognized as the passage for those who had been deemed worthy of purchase. She had seen others being led down a third way when they had failed to receive any bids at all or not met their reserve. They were mostly the old and sickly and she did not know what happened to them afterwards. But she had chanced a glance at the Wraith she had spotted and they seemed to be pleased.

She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and focused her attention on the latest sorry soul to be brought before them. They would judge him worthy or not, by the price they placed upon his head.

The auctioneer announced the newest arrival as he had all the others, "Ladies, gentlemen and the unspecified, I present, Lot 54. Human male. Approximately forty cycles. Completely undamaged. Strong legs and voice. Ideal for any purpose. Bidding starts at two Tarlaks."

The new man was treated in much the same way as the others, but he was definitely stronger in his resolve as he resisted against the two burly, well armed and armoured men in the arena with him as they kept hold of the ropes leading to his wrists. They tried to pull his hands away where he was keeping them resolutely clasped in front of himself.

She smiled. He was perfect and she knew instantly that she had to have him. His bare skin was pearly white and smooth. His handsome jaw was set in steely defiance as he glared at the captors. His short hair was wet and unkempt and stubble darkened his face.

But he _was_ damaged, no matter what the auctioneer said. She could see it with her trained eye. He was shivering through either cold or fear or both where he stood unshod before them so that they knew exactly what they were getting. His wrists were bruised around the restraints even though they were made of leather rather than metal. He was clearly a fighter… that only made her want him even more.

She just hoped that the other potential bidders were as keen eyed as she was and would pass on him and not make her spend too much. That would greatly displease her clients, even if she won him.

One of the 'Holders,' as she called them, in the arena, drew forward his long, blunt rod when the man resisted and tried to move away from them. He jabbed it into the man's exposed belly.

The Bidder started in anger at the ill treatment of the man and stood up.

In that moment of weakness, as the man cried out feebly and bent double, the Holders finally managed to wrench his arms up by the ropes attached to his wrists and he was fully on display to them. A sympathetic blush crept over and warmed the Bidder's face as she watched the man's futile struggling and he hissed.

She already knew that she did not need to see all of his… _assets,_ to know that she had to have him, she _needed_ to have him, no matter what the cost. Nevertheless, she found her eyes drawn inexorably downwards as they tracked from his sweaty face, to his pale midsection and followed the line of hair from his chest, to his belly and even lower… No. She stopped, steeled herself and looked away. She would not take advantage of his vulnerable state to have a peek. That would be unkind.

The man pulled savagely and curled his lip up into a furious snarl to hide his discomfort.

The auctioneer chuckled, almost nervously, "Perhaps a little stubborn, but there's nothing that a good beating can't cure. He certainly scrubbed up better than that last batch. I know there's a good bit of meat on him, but a hard day's work should be able to remedy that."

The Bidder chanced a glance around at her fellow auction goers and noticed that the few women, who could be identified as such through the various masks, were eyeing the man with great interest now. A woman with her eyes darkened in desire, on the other side of the arena to the Bidder, suddenly raised her hand.

"Two Tarlaks! Any more? Any more?"

There was a jeering boo from the Wraith contingent and one of them stood up and grabbed something from the ground before he went right up to the rail and barged the humans out of the way.

The Bidder looked down at the man again and saw that he was desperately wriggling and squirming against the restraints again to try and cover his embarrassment. His skin was flushed from his face downwards and the redness spread over his chest as it gradually covered his whole body.

The Bidder raised her hand.

The auctioneer pointed at her, "Three Tarlaks! More! More!"

The dark eyed woman lifted her hand again. "Four! Higher?"

The Bidder waited.

The Wraith nearest the arena suddenly heckled, "Four? He's not even worth one!" He hefted up a small concrete paving slab he had pulled up from the floor and threw it at the man in the arena like it was nothing more than a featherweight.

It struck the man on sale in the chest with a hollow thud and he winced and staggered.

The Bidder opened her mouth to protest against the injury, but the auctioneer stepped in. "Do not damage the Lots unless you wish to buy them yourself!"

Guards quickly surrounded the Wraith and dragged him away.

The Bidder looked down into the arena again and furrowed her brow. The man had stopped struggling and had sunk to his knees with his head hanging down. His arms were still out and held up by the ropes pulled taut by the Holders. The left side of his chest was grazed and bleeding where the debris had struck him and his face was contorted in pain.

The auctioneer called out half-heartedly, "Any more? Any more?"

The Bidder frowned. The man was hurt, but she still had to buy him for her clients. She now felt so sorry for him that it only made her longing for him sharpen even more intensely.

She raised her hand once more.

"Five Tarlaks to the unspecified!"

The Bidder stared at the man and willed him to look up again so that she could see his lopsided mouth and sapphire eyes. But blood was running down his side from the chest wound and dripping into the dirt under him and he kept his eyes averted in abject misery.

The auctioneer suddenly announced, "I have just heard it on the highest authority that Lot number 54 is none other than the famous, or should I say, _infamous_, Dr Rodney McKay of Atlantis!"

The Bidder frowned angrily. Of course she knew who the man was, as did her clients, which was why she could not afford to lose today. But she would never get a good price for him now, even though he was damaged and might even die from his injury.

The Bidder was right. The bids from the others went mad after that. She reasoned that they had not known what he looked like, but they certainly seemed to have heard his name.

"Ninety. Yes! One hundred Tarlaks? Yes, you over there!"

The Bidder sighed and looked down into the arena again while she waited for her chance. The man was looking up at them all with his brow furrowed in confusion. He had not realised his worth, but he probably did not know whether the people trying to buy him meant good or ill towards him and nor did the Bidder.

"One hundred and forty! Higher? Higher!"

There was silence. That was a lot of money. The most expensive lot so far that day. The Bidder knew she would not be able to afford him if the bids went too much higher.

The tension stretched out.

"Going?"

The Bidder raised her hand quickly. "One fifty!"

The woman with dark eyes shifted her gave towards the Bidder malevolently and lifted her nose as she raised her hand. "One sixty!"

The Bidder glared back at the woman, even though the expression would be lost through the covering. She raised her hand in spite. "One seventy!"

The dark eyed woman tossed her head back and her hair flicked over her shoulders as she said quietly, "Three hundred."

"Wow, whoa! Three hundred! Going?" The auctioneer sounded like he was going to have a heart attack in excitement.

The Bidder gritted her teeth. She needed to consult her clients, but there was not enough time…

She rattled the purse in her pocket. She knew how much she had.

"Four hundred!" she cried. That was everything. If the woman had more, she would lose him.

The auctioneer bounced up and down as he shouted, "Four hundred! Four hundred Tarlaks! Any more?"

He glanced at the woman, who was still staring unblinkingly at the Bidder. She narrowed her darkened eyes and looked away with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"Going! Going… Gone! Lot 54, sold for four hundred Tarlaks to the unspecified with the blue headscarf. Remember, everyone, we don't mind who you are or what you do, as long as you can pay."

The Bidder nodded and watched her prize as he was pulled to his feet and shoved through the 'sold' door. He hunched his shoulders and immediately drew an arm over his bleeding and bruised chest with a pained grimace as he was released. She frowned in concern and quickly slipped out of the crowd to get to the pay and claim desk.

* * *

Rodney stumbled into the wall where he had been pushed out of the nightmare and humiliation of the pit. His chest hurt terribly and he was having trouble breathing deeply enough to fight away the nausea and trembling. He had nothing to press against the wound other than his bare hands and he knew it was probably already infected from whatever contagions he had picked up in this hellhole.

Not that he wanted to shove anything onto the fractured ribs that would unsettle and turn them inwards to probably puncture a lung at best, his heart as worst. He knew he was lucky the blow had not struck him just a little more centrally or it would probably have stopped his heart or cracked his breastbone.

He kept his eyes closed as he was bundled along. There was a chilled breeze over his flesh, but he was too traumatised to feel the glowing embarrassment any more.

Someone had bought him and they had turned the manic number caller into a frenzy. Or maybe he was just like that all the time. Rodney could not imagine he had fetched a good price and the images of tins of his processed meat gliding along a conveyor belt went through his mind again. He imagined a market seller calling out, like the auctioneer, "Roll up! Roll up! Diced McKay! Going cheap! Once it's gone, it's gone for good."

He was released and suddenly stopped as his knees buckled. No-one caught him as he fell and landed heavily. He curled up on his side and wrapped his arms around himself to try and conserve what little heat he could.

There was a harsh woman's voice, but the anger faltered slightly as she spoke unevenly. "Don't you have any clothes for him?"

A blunt man replied, "Gift wrap? No."

"But I can't take him out like that!"

"It's extra. Two Tarlaks."

Rodney shivered and drew his limbs in more tightly. The ground he was lying on was hard against his hip and shoulder, but that pain was small in comparison to the throb in his sore chest in time with his heartbeat and ragged breaths.

There was a soft sigh. "Alright. But I'm using the water too."

"Done."

Rodney felt small, but firm hands grip his arms and help him upright. He let himself be guided, but kept his face and eyes tightly scrunched, especially when the burn of his wounds increased at the movement. Warmth was still seeping out of the graze and running down his side and leg where he bled.

The hands moved up to his shoulders and pushed him down into a chair.

The woman sighed again and there was a slosh of water before something was pressed against his lips and he drank. He spluttered, which set his chest on fire and a hand rested against his back until the choking subsided. He had expected the water to be dirty, or poisonous, but it seemed to be clean.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Rodney."

He frowned; there was something strangely familiar about that voice and the way it berated him. The restraints were finally pulled away from his sore wrists and cool pieces of material were wrapped around them both to soothe the bruising.

He felt a gentle pressure on his chest and he shuddered. "It's alright," the woman whispered in his ear. "Sheppard's outside with a Jumper. They're going to come back later and bust the whole place open, but we needed to get you out first and I'm the only one they didn't see when you were caught."

Rodney opened his eyes and glanced down at first. His modesty was covered with a piece of thin blue cloth and he was grateful, but his chest smarted and stung.

"I'm just disinfecting this. Then I'll get you nicely wrapped up and we can go home."

Rodney looked at himself and saw a delicate hand swabbing the blood away and cleaning the graze on his chest from the blow. When it was done, the wound was still bleeding, but a pressure bandage was laid over the top to hide the flow. He felt the tapes being wrapped around his back and then tied at the front.

"You've got some bruised ribs, so I don't think I'll be pressing down on that for now."

Rodney furrowed his brow and finally looked up when the hands left him. He blinked a few times to clear the grit out of his eyes and saw a woman peering down at him in concern. Her light-coloured hair was haloed around her face in a dazzling display, made all the more angelic by the bright light above her.

Rodney widened his eyes as he gasped, "Jennifer?"

Her smile broadened even more and she gripped his shoulder. "You are one very expensive man, Rodney McKay."

He grinned happily. "Only the best."

Jennifer let go and walked over to a table on the side of sparsely furnished small room. She picked up the clothes laid out there and went back to Rodney. She tried to help him dress, but he patted her away with an indignant, "I can do it! I can do it!" Only for the effect to be ruined by a pained hiss as the bandage pulled.

He had to let her help him after a while. It was not like she had not seen it all already. Everyone in this place had _seen_ him. He grimaced as she tugged the thin shirt over his head last of all and carefully pulled his arms through the holes. She smoothed it down over him and he looked downcast.

She held his forearm and guided him out of the room and into the sunlight outside the terrible arena.

She smirked across at him and squeezed his arm. "You do realise that you're my property now."

Rodney lifted his head up and looked back at her incredulously. He started flagging so Jennifer spread her arm over his back and held his waist to support him. He rested his free arm over the bandage around his torso and said, "I'll pay you back."

Jennifer tutted and smiled, "It doesn't work like that. I _own_ you. Maybe I could see if Sheppard wants to take you off my hands if you get too demanding."

"You wouldn't!" Rodney cried in alarm.

Jennifer raised her eyebrows and changed her grip slightly. It now felt more like a combined hug and support and Rodney moved his hand round between them so that he could place his arm across her back and draw her in with his hand on her upper arm.

Jennifer laughed. "Actually, no, I don't think I will for the time being."

Rodney shot her a furtive and slightly apprehensive glance.

Jennifer was still trying not to laugh when they stepped into the back of the decloaked Jumper and Jennifer delivered her prize into the hands of her clients.

Rodney was hurt, but his injuries were not life threatening. Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon were just glad to see him after they had been stunned and left behind in the woods. Jennifer sat Rodney down on the rear bench in the Jumper and passed him a water bottle with some pain killers and then a power bar. The natives must have recognized McKay as someone who would fetch a very high price and they had not been wrong.

* * *

_A/N – You knew it was her… right? That was different! Thanks for reading and, as always, I'd love to hear what you thought of it._


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